081 – Ghost Town

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We had arrived at our destination.

Our speed was glacial as we approached… whatever this place was. An hour to get here, sixty long minutes to prepare and plan and hope, and my expectations were still circumvented.

An abandoned amusement park.

The entrance was dilapidated and decrepit. Rusted. Whatever color that had given this place life had been drained away and diseased with something more sickly. Shades of a dark red and orange scraped through the bright mascots and characters and childish imagery to warp and twist them into monsters and creatures. This was no place for a child.

Statues that were supposed to be welcoming us had deteriorated to the point where they were doing the complete opposite, now. In their current condition, with chunk of arms and legs and tentacles and trunks and eyes and ears missing or broken off, it seemed more like a warning.

Lamp posts were knocked down, bulbs were broken. Shattered glass and torn up pieces of cement prevented a proper path forward. There were only a few cars as we pulled up more into the parking lot, but, much like everything else, they weren’t in any condition to be used for its intended purpose.

Not a person in sight. And even if there was, I could only imagine how damaged they’d have to be to end up wandering into this place. Because no one should have to come here unless they had a very good reason to, and I would have liked to think that we had some decent justification.

But, the deeper we continued, the thinner that justification seemed to become. Seemed.

The whole damn town seemed like it had been forgotten by time and neglected by people. Though, in essence, it was like that exactly.

Brief, I thought back to the buildings we passed as we arrived here. Even they stuck with me.

Broken and barren. Par for the course, I knew now. Windows had been shattered, holes torn through bricks, houses and stores gutted of their belongings and wares. Graffiti had been streaked and marked across every available surface. More reds and oranges. More rust. Words, symbols, more warnings. I wasn’t able to make out the original name of the town as we entered, covered up too much by all the tagging. A fitting metaphor.

I was, however, able to catch the new name. Fuckington.

Alright then.

It was just another strange addition to an already strange town. Nothing seemed right, here. It was just… wrong. Twisted, even perverted. Things were stripped down and then built on top. Corrugated metal roofs covered wooden constructs that resembled shacks or huts, lined in certain spots down the different streets. Haphazardly put together and assembled with little care to overall aesthetics or designs. Squatters? People who took advantage of their surroundings for temporary housing? Didn’t know, and I didn’t want to know. Despite all the ‘work’ that had been done, I still hadn’t seen another person around. And I almost wished I wouldn’t. Almost.

Our trip from Stephenville to El Paso had taken us out farther west. And things have only gotten crazier and more wild.

Thinking backwards, from the park to the town to even the streets that led us in here. The dips and cracked cement, the potholes and snapped pipes. I was already thinking of ways to get out of here.

But there was still much more of the town that needed to be explored. We couldn’t turn back now.

Not good.

My focus snapped back to the present.

Sarah put the RV in park, turning the engine off.

“We’re… here.”

Sarah was just as unsure about this as I was.

I was standing between the two seats at the front of the RV, my elbows resting against a headrest on either side. Sarah was seated on the left, Isabella to my right.

Sarah took the keys out of the ignition. She held them, tight, the keys and kitty charm hidden by the firm fist she formed. Isabella was frozen, waiting for either Sarah of me to make a move.

Not me or Sarah.

Hello?

“Oh, D,” I said. D was still on the phone, situated on the dashboard.

You there or no?

“We are. I’m just trying to take this all in.”

Sarah chimed in. “You can include me in that, too.”

“Yeah,” Isabella said.

Where are you?

“I…” I started, but words escaped me. Even being in the RV, in relative safety, gave me a heavy oppressed feeling. Foreboding. Like a weight on my chest.

“We’re in Fuckington,” Isabella said.

What-”

“That’s what the sign read as we got here, don’t blame me.”

Alright then.

“That’s exactly what I thought,” I said. “You know anything about this place? From what I saw, it’s even smaller than the other town we passed through earlier, but it’s seen… a lot of shit.”

It was the best way I could describe it, out loud. The place looked like shit.

I wouldn’t know anything about that location, exactly, but I’ve heard of the concept.

“Concept?”

Whenever really small or obscure towns get even smaller or more obscure, because of a declining industry or other opportunities elsewhere. That gives outside groups, like homeless people or wandering hitchhikers or even gangs to come in and overpower whoever stuck around. Give it a few decades of people coming in, getting what they want, getting out, with some relative silence in between, and everyone kind of just forgets to care. And then you get this.

It seemed like it was a microcosm of what happened to Stephenville. A similar idea. Gangs coming into city that didn’t have the proper infrastructure to fight back, instead being corrupted by it. Similar, but not exact, because a small foundation had been set up for them when those gangs arrived. A parasitic underbelly that was ready to consume the seediness and nourish from it.

Mister.

But, here, it was like this town’s ‘Mister’ had left long ago. A corpse of a place. I couldn’t even consider it Hell, since we still hadn’t seen a soul around. And the more I stayed in the RV, the more I didn’t want to go outside and look for any, much less one hundred and three people.

But I knew I had to.

“What the hell is Tone even doing here?” I questioned. The second most pressing question regarding this situation. The first being where.

It’s what I got when I checked.

“Do you have a more accurate read? We didn’t see the truck coming in, and we’re getting deeper without having seen much else outside of decay.”

I can’t pinpoint it since you’re so far out, and with what I’m working with right now, which isn’t a lot, it’s the best I can do. I told you it wouldn’t be great.

“It’s good enough,” I said, second-guessing it all. The seeds had sprouted, the roots digging. “We can take it from here.”

Good luck, stay safe, yadda yadda. Keep me updated.

“Always.”

Sarah hung up the phone for me. WIth her other hand still balled up, she had to twist around and back in order to return it to me.

“How you want to do this?” I asked. “I can take a look around while you two stay in here. Work my way back, going by rooftops? Gives me a better vantage point that way, and it’ll be faster.”

Sarah nodded. “That’s not a bad idea. You could probably cover a lot more ground that way, and it’ll be easier for me to come to where you are when you find them.”

She looked at Isabella, “And it makes it easier for me to keep an eye on her.”

Isabella returned a look back at Sarah. I couldn’t see what expression she had, but it did prompt Sarah to add, “Not that you need it.”

I added my voice to Sarah’s.

“I can’t exactly have you wandering around on your own, Isabella. I’ll feel better and I’ll be able to work faster if I know you’re here with Sarah, relatively safe.”

Isabella turned in her seat so she had her legs folder under her, facing me properly.

“I know. I’ll take your suggestion and I’ll choose to stay behind.”

I found the humor in that. She’d try to find and scrounge up any agency she could and use it to make her feel better. Admirable and adorable.

“Good choice,” I said.

Isabella hugged the teddy bear she had with her. Tighter. As if she was choking the poor thing.

“This place seriously creeps me out. Just be fast so we don’t have to be here long and I won’t lose my head waiting for you.”

The admittance was admirable. Adorable, too. I really wouldn’t have minded if she decided to stay with us.

I spoke.

“Okay. Looks like I’m off. I’ll try to be quick.”

“You have a gun?” Sarah asked.

“I’ve got my knife, and my mask.”

I gestured, raising my arms to strike a pose. Flexing.

“Even without all that, I’m more than enough.”

Then, I dropped my arms. It didn’t work as well as it used to.

I had to work with what I got, though. And all I had to rely on was myself.

It sucked, but I wasn’t in a good position.

I starting gathering what I needed. I talked as I worked.

“Lock the doors, close the curtains on the side windows but don’t be afraid to check your surroundings every now and then. I’ll keep my phone with me so call if, knock on wood, trouble finds you guys. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of something or if it’s somehow inconvenient. If you’re in trouble, call. I want to know.”

“You got it ma’am,” Sarah said, her intonation rising at the end.

It was endearing, but I couldn’t comment or think on it.

I stood, ready, at the door of the RV. In the reshuffling of all the stuff I had packed, I couldn’t find everything in time. I had a new hoodie on, a temporary black padded jacket, and my mask. My knife and phone were close at hand, too.

I gave Sarah and Isabella a quick look to let them know I was ready. And to also tell myself that.

I’m tired.

“Heading out,” I said, holding back a yawn. I really hadn’t slept in some time.

Isabella was staring, with a certain intensity. Her mouth was hanging open. Easy to notice.

I heard her whisper, “La luna azul.”

“It’s V, now.”

“But still, it’s like the same thing.”

No it’s not.

I flipped the hood up.

“You look like a ninja,” Isabella added. “Or some shit.”

“I have to go,” I said. “Tone’s out there, somewhere, and I’m the only one who can find him. Can’t waste any time.”

I put my hand on the handle, cracking the door open.

“You can start by backtracking, checking any turns or corners we skipped on the main road to get here,” Sarah said. “If you can’t find them, then… just come back and I’ll make my way around the amusement park.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to that.”

“Right. Let’s.”

I left the RV and took my first step outside.

Already, I wanted to turn and go back inside.

The smell

Even the very air was tepid and lifeless, and the collective odors of trash and rot and shit was allowed to sit and stew into this thick, atmospheric attack on the senses. It was almost like a vapor, or a fog, that made my eyes get watery, and they were covered.

I gasped, dreading the inevitable inhale that followed. A sour taste that was hard to swallow.

I pushed forward into the fog.

I didn’t see the truck as we arrived into the parking lot, so I crossed the street, leaving it behind. The RV. Sarah and Isabella. I dreaded the idea of leaving them more than the idea of maneuvering through this fog. This miasma.

Without much thought or consideration, my feet touched down on a rooftop. Some steps and a small push to reach another. The buildings weren’t tall at all. I was putting as much effort into crossing gaps and streets as a normal kid would playing hopscotch.

Every time I was in the air, I looked. Every clearance or open space I came across, I searched. Every corner or back alley or dead end, I investigated.

Nothing nothing nothing.

We hadn’t entered a very dense part of… of Fuckington, there were only so many places for me to check before I started going in circles, seeing the same things over and over. The same streetlights and corners, the same broken cars and storefront windows. Some trucks, but none of them with eighteen wheels.

Nowhere, did I see a large truck with a larger trailer.

I landed back down, this time on the street proper. I froze for a moment.

There was stillness, here, that sat above everything and kept it all down. It was so many things. Restlessness, unease, static… the feeling like I was being watched. I couldn’t shake any of it off. It was a paranoia of an almost unreal kind.

The farther I left Stephenville, the further I was going in the deep, it seemed.

I blinked, my eyes stinging.

I have to find them soon.

I couldn’t find the truck. Did they move somewhere else? Leave the trailer?

No way.

I could try looking in some of the buildings, find some other clues. If I were to run into anyone… would they be of any help? No, they’d probably be more trouble than it was worth. I still had yet to run into anyone else. Was there a chance that the town had been abandoned completely?

Maybe, probably. Hopefully.

I went on the move again, walking this time.

There were still some spots I hadn’t checked, yet. It was just that more locations were starting to become more familiar, which wasn’t exactly the coolest thing. I’d rather have this place behind me and out of my head, already.

But, no, I still had over one hundred people to find, and every second that they weren’t accounted for tugged at my mind and added to that paranoia.

I continued searching.

I checked off the spots I already visited in my head, a mental map I made of this one section of Fuckington. Only a few left, a storage warehouse at one end and what looked like a junkyard at the other. I had caught sight of them while I was in the air, looking for more places to search.

The junkyard was closer, actually, so I’d check there first.

In what felt like a few blinks, and fewer steps, I made it to the warehouse. I had to land into a roll onto a patch of grass because I had come in too high and too fast. I had to fix my hood as I got myself straight again.

I turned my nose up at the smell again.

It was even worse, here, foul in a way that gave form to the rot and decay I’d seen all over the town. A whole other dimension.

Another parking lot, then a chained fence with piles of junk and other trash. The ‘entrance’ was just a large missing chunk of the fence itself, and by that was a large sign, faded, posted up way above everything else. It gave me the impression that this area wasn’t original set up to be a junkyard, rather that it ended up being one after whatever used to be here… was no longer here. Maybe a restaurant or even another warehouse.

Either way, it was one more fitting metaphor for fucking Fuckington.

There was enough trash to obscure my view of everything, and the missing gap in the fence was wide enough to drive a truck through. I couldn’t jump across the piles and stacks of shit, with it being haphazard in its construction and too loose, I’d slip if I tried.

No choice but to walk.

The ‘aroma’ got even ‘sweeter,’ getting closer, and it made my steps lighter and eyes dart faster. I paced faster, checking the huge space, internally begging to find them… not soon, but now.

I had to watch my step, though. There were more jagged edges than there were flat surfaces to walk across. Broken glass, needles, bits of wood and plastic. Everything here had degraded in a way that I could only guess what they used to be. It was a graveyard for stuff, really.

Checking what I could see of the ground as I walked, my feet kicking and sifting through junk and detritus like they were dead leaves, I noted that none of it looked flattened or squished, as though a heavy set of wheels had drove through and crushed it. It all looked settled and untouched. Like they just fell into place and stayed there since.

So, no. Nothing here too.

I was losing time. Darn.

I could try one loop around the junkyard, just in case, but it didn’t seem like-

I turned.

A sound, like the rustling of leaves.

Then something more alive.

“He- help!”

I ran in the direction of the cry.

“Is someone there? Please!”

I ran faster.

I rounded the side of one particular pile of trash. Whoever was yelling got louder as they heard me approach.

And the smell.

It was getting stronger as I got closer. An actual aroma. It was actually sweet.

“Right here, I’m right here! Oh fuck, hurry!”

I hurried.

Then I stopped.

It took some time to process what I was looking at.

Or who.

Two, three… four people. Varied in height and age. All on the ground, lined up next to one another, slumped over.

A family?

Two of them were flat on their stomachs, faces buried in the bundle of cardboard and newspapers. One was on their side, eyes staring but not focused, jaw open, slack.

The last was in his back, yelling.

“You, please, I-”

He stopped as he saw me, his mouth snapping shut. Was it my appearance, with the mask and hood? I probably looked like the exact opposite of what he wanted to see, right now.

I approached anyways.

I got down on one knee, digging into dirt and debris, feeling something sharp poking against my leg. Not enough to break skin, though.

I took the man and helped him up the best I could, but his sudden pained expression gave me the impression that he was no longer able. Supporting him by the lower back and shoulders, I tried to him make as comfortable as possible.

“I’ve got you,” I said. “What happened? Who did this?”

He had been screaming his lungs out, before, but his voice had been brought down to a whisper when he had to explain this.

“They… got us… came in so fast. Truck got stopped, then it got so bright, couldn’t see. Loud, bright, hot. Couldn’t fight back.”

The man was only giving me pieces, there were too many gaps to put together everything and form a clearer picture.

But I got the broad strokes. And it added up to the worst case scenario I could think of.

“Who got you?” I asked. “How did the truck get stopped, and why here? How’d you get here?”

And where’s Tone?

I held back on that question for the time being. I doubted that this man would know anything in that regard. He was barely coherent about his own situation.

The man only whispered, tears now streaming down his cheeks. There had been dirt, there, but now I realized it was smeared streaks of blood.

“I got my… my kids, and ran…”

The tears continued, and he choked up.

It’s okay, I thought to say, but it was all too clear that it was not. Whatever he tried running from, he didn’t manage to get very far.

“Can you move?” I asked. Experimentally, I moved him some more, but the sudden scream made me stop.

The man shook his head hard, various fluids flung from his face.

“Too late for me,” he breathed. He sounded haggard. “Please… just help my kids.”

He gestured, or at least he attempted to, shifting his arm over to the next to him, one of two that were on their stomachs. Both weren’t moving.

It pained me to have to say that I couldn’t.

I froze up again, unsure of what to say, then, how to approach that topic. How to break it to him.

“I-”

A small wheeze.

The person on their side.

It was so small that I hadn’t noticed it at first. Barely imperceptible. A subtle rise and fall of their chest. A slow, drawn out blink, their eyes refocusing.

On me.

A girl. A girl like D and Isabella. She was still alive?

She looked worse off than her father. Her hair was mangled, clothes ripped and dirty, her lower lip swollen and red. I could imagine, and I didn’t even want to.

“Can she move?” I asked.

The father only grunted, now. I could see the life slowly leave him. He shifted again, his fingers reaching for his children, and I saw tiny black dots lining his arms, his veins.

The needles.

It really was too late for him.

Slow, with consideration, I set the man down, doing what I could to make him comfortable, despite the circumstance. He seemed to relax, because he let his eyes close, and drifted off…

All tension left his body, and I got up to leave his body be.

I stepped around to reach the girl.

I raised her by the shoulders, helping her get a better position.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi…”

She was able to speak. It wasn’t as lively as the screaming from her father before, but it was clearer and more pronounced that his whispers. There was life to it.

All from one word.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Olivia,” she said.

Olivia was probably the oldest of the three kids, judging by her height and build. That put her around the same range as D and Isabella. Her hair was short, really short for a girl. I could have mistaken her for a boy if her features didn’t tell me the opposite. Her clothes were stained and smudged with grime, wet in some parts, disturbingly sticky in others.

“I’m going to help you up,” I said. “Can you move on your own?”

Olivia nodded.

“I can.”

“Okay, that’s good. How about your… siblings?”

Olivia’s response was more muted, that time. A whisper that I could forgive.

“No.”

“Okay,” I said.

I started helping her, getting her up so she could move more on her own. I did everything I could to not panic, and let that show in my body language or the lower half of my face.

Everyone in that trailer, everyone that I was responsible for, had been scattered, and some had even been picked off. I saw them, I’d seen their faces. The glimmering, the lack of hope, with their last chance at any peace was to go back to the way they came, back into the chaos and stress. Fathers, mothers… kids. Kids who were embarking on this trip by themselves.

Over one hundred people were supposed to make it to El Paso. Now, there was high probability that I’d lost an entire digit.

Even if we made it to El Paso now, I had already failed.

It was getting harder and harder to keep that panic in.

Olivia was up, now, her steps too small for any meaningful progress, and I needed to hurry. I took her arm around my shoulder for more support, and to get her to move faster.

I had to call Sarah, make sure they were still alright. Isabella.

I leaned one way, to better support Olivia while I used my other arm to reach for my phone and-

The phone started ringing.

I picked up.

“Sarah?”

It was Isabella that answered.

Uh, Wendy, I think there’s trouble.

The panic began to bubble.

“You think?”

There are some people standing around the RV. In the distance.

I started hurrying, walking faster. Olivia tripped over her feet, and we stalled.

Please tell me that you’re just joking,” I said.

Um… no?

Holy fucking shit, no.

“Where’s Sarah? Tell her to start getting the heck out of there.”

Fuck, we can’t. There’s cars, now, some motorcycles. They’re blocking the way out.

Motorcycles. I immediately thought of Styx’s Gang. Could they be out here?

No, that wouldn’t make sense.

I picked up the pace, Olivia whining and lagging behind. I’d drag her if I had to.

“Tell Sarah I’m on my way,” I said. “I’m-”

I heard it both in the distance and right in my ear.

Several shots rang out.

“Isabella!” I yelled.

She was yelling too, but it wasn’t directed at me.

Sarah, we have to-”

Her voice faded away, but I didn’t get another tone. The call was still ongoing.

“Isabella!”

Shrieks from the phone, shots from much farther away.

I had to be there, now.

I grabbed Olivia with hardly an explanation. I shoved my phone back into my pocket, and swooped Olivia up into my arms. She yelped as I took to the air, leaving the junkyard after a single bound.

I sprinted back onto the streets, finding myself back across the rooftops in no time. If she was shocked or scared, Olivia didn’t have to breath to say so.

Moving faster than I ever had before, crossing greater distances, pushing myself more and more. My muscles aching, the itch in the back of my throat getting itchier.

Have to be alert, have to be ready, I have to be there.

I tore through the air. So did the continued gunfire.

I was forced to land a block away, my feet hitting the ground, firm. From where I was, I had a decent vantage point of the chaos above.

Groups of people, a mob really. Cars revving engines and motorcycles circling. From the build of the bikes and the dress of the bikers themselves, they didn’t look like they belonged to Styx. The just looked normal.

Though, normal still wasn’t good.

Where did these guys come from? Where were they hiding? I’d probably never know, but it almost didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were here, now, and they were going after Sarah and Isabella.

The RV.

Through the continued firing and closing in of the mob, the RV was forced to move, being herded towards the direction of the amusement park. The entrance into the park was wide open, like the junkyard, it was able to go through the gap with little issue.

Still not a good thing.

It was too easy for them.

I moved again.

I took Olivia and ran into the nearest building, a souvenir shop that was no longer useful for much else besides providing cover. The mob didn’t seem to have noticed us, which meant I could still get the drop on them. Scatter them, break them apart so I could get to the RV, and hopefully, the truck.

There was a corner behind the counter of the store, I hopped and slid across it, setting Olivia down in one quick motion.

“Stay here,” I ordered. “Hide. I’ll have to do something about those guys, and I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

I pulled back to stand, but her hands were gripping my sleeves, tight. She wasn’t letting go.

“You can’t leave me here, please. They’ll find me. Please don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I said, putting extra effort to sound and stay calm while shots were firing right behind me. “I’m coming back for you as soon as I’m finished.”

She only held me tighter. She looked so scared.

I felt for her, I really did, but having her around would be like having a metal ball tied to my ankle. Especially with her being so weak. I wouldn’t be able to move or fight properly if I had something tying me down. I couldn’t afford that, not when time and other lives were on the line. I had to hurry.

I closed my eyes, brief. The desire to keep them closed got stronger.

I snapped them open, and snapped my arms back, breaking Olivia’s hold on me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I promise I’ll be back.”

Olivia whimpered and sobbed as I left the store, going back the way I came.

I’d work better if I ignored it for now. For her sake, even.

Back outside, into the chaos and madness. I managed to sort through it pretty easily.

I scaled the side of the shop to reach the roof. Like every other building here, it wasn’t tall.

A better view of the situation.

The RV was gone, now, blocked by the coiling metal structuring of the various rides and attractions. The mob was getting closer to the entrance, blocking it off with the different cars and bikes they brought with them.

They were coordinated.

Hurrying, panicking, I looked around for anything I could use. A knife wasn’t going to cut it, here.

A huge metal box. An air conditioning unit or something. It had broken down, now, the rust obvious and bright. A small door was hanging open, exposing some metal compartments inside. Some metal pipes were jutting out of its innards. I yanked one free, taking the door off its hinges as well. It was small, but could still cover my head and torso if I held it up.

I slipped my arm into the handles that were on the inside of the door, parallel to each other. I fixed my grip on the metal pipe, so the sharper was pointing away from me.

It had longer reach than my knife, at least.

No more time to waste. I had to move.

I moved.

Taking to the air, crossing the distance with just one jump. I was swinging before I even hit the ground, among the mob before they even realized what was happening.

I pushed with my shield-door, getting as many to fall over as possible, before striking any limbs or joints I could find. Swinging, and swinging hard.

I took a step back to reassess the situation. The mob was beginning to catch on, mobilizing, and I got some more shots in before I had to move.

Not everyone had guns, mostly a few in the mob. Some of the bikers had some, but being up close now, I saw that they had pitchforks.

This really was an angry mob. But what the fuck were people doing here with them? What the hell kind of place was this?

Figure it out later. Now you have to act.

Right.

Crowd control, and disarming the more dangerous individuals. If I could take out those who were armed first, I could power through the rest, easy. I didn’t have D with me, but I knew how to work a crowd.

I pushed through another section of the mob again, pushing them down, striking and stabbing where I could. The mob was sizable, but I could move fast and hit hard, with finality. And with the brief advantage of having gotten the drop on them, I was actually making some decent progress.

A shot was fired.

I lifted the shield over my head.

A sharp pang hit the metal, and it vibrated, shaking my arm. It nearly threw me off balance, from both the impact and the sheer volume of the shot.

Someone tried to take that as an opportunity, shoving me on the side with a shoulder. I shoved back, and they were back on the ground.

I jumped to get some air and distance.

More shots rang out, but they all missed. These guys weren’t used to hitting moving targets, much less ones who were soaring through the air with the sun behind them.

I was back down and moving, rushing those who had a weapon on them. More gunfire, some missing, some piercing through the shield. It wouldn’t hold up for much longer.

I was getting through the mob, picking them off, but I was starting to waste too much time focusing on just them. I had to actually get into the amusement park, follow the RV and find Sarah and Isabella.

Needed a move, a big move. One that would scare them enough and get them to break apart and away.

Ahead, a biker. He wasn’t far, but I’d have to jump to reach him fast. I jumped, throwing the sharp metal pipe at the same time.

It struck, impaling him in the right shoulder. He folded, wincing and crying, then collapsed on the ground.

I got to the bike before it fell over as well. I held it up with both hands.

Didn’t know how to ride one, but that wasn’t what I had in mind.

I gripped it, until I felt metal bend, and I turned. And turned again.

I spun until both wheels had left the ground.

I could hear the shouts, people yelling to get out of the way.

They wouldn’t get an ample enough warning. I let go of the motorcycle, and it cut the air as it flew.

The bike crashed, slamming into a ride past the entrance of the amusement park. I overshot it on purpose.

I still achieved the effect I needed. The mob got the message, and started to scatter away in various directions. Across the parking lot, back onto the street, the majority fleeing into the amusement park.

I’d have to follow them in there. This still wasn’t over.

Pressing on, I headed to the entrance, checking around to see if-

When fleeing, there had to be somewhere to flee to.

I watched as one half of the mob regrouped by the souvenir shop, some even going inside.

Olivia.

I looked back to the amusement park entrance.

Sarah and Isabella.

My eyes and throat burned. I wanted to cry and scream myself raw.

I had my priorities.

A split second decision.

I sprinted into the amusement park.

I told Olivia to hide. I had to trust that she found a good spot.

Shield across one arm, my knife in my other hand. It was all I had to bring in with me as I came in. If I could be fast, I could get back to Olivia in time.

I told myself that.

I had caught the name of the park as I went in. Like the sign as we entered Fuckington, the name had been spray-painted over and renamed.

Death For Amusement Park. A very cruel joke.

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5 thoughts on “081 – Ghost Town

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